


Three Times Sam Winchester Acted Like a Saint (and one time he didn't have to)

by exmanhater



Series: Our Lavish Post-Apocalyptic Lifestyle [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-22
Updated: 2010-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exmanhater/pseuds/exmanhater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam would like his gravestone to say something like: <i>Here lies Samuel Winchester, who made some mistakes, but still shouldered his <strike>brother's gay, blasphemous relationship</strike> burden bravely and without <strike>much</strike> complaint.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times Sam Winchester Acted Like a Saint (and one time he didn't have to)

Dean and Cas mostly fight about stupid shit, Sam discovers. There's usually some underlying issue(s) behind their arguments, but the fighting itself is almost all about trivial things. They're both stubborn bastards, and Sam privately thinks they enjoy fighting. Not to mention they've gotten secure enough with each other for Dean to not assume that every argument is a sign of an impending breakup, which naturally leads to pettiness. Dean pushes the hardest against the people he trusts to still love him anyway, not that Sam would take his life in his hands by actually saying that out loud in front of Dean. It's true, though, and Sam thinks Castiel is starting to understand that.

Sam also knows that, given the choice, Dean will always stick with the hardest possible way of doing something. Live without Sam or go to hell? Stick with a ready-made family and a normal life or hunt monsters with Sam and sleep with an archangel? Sam's not really complaining, since most of Dean's choices have turned out okay for them all, but he does wish every now and then that Dean would just be grateful for the way things are and stop trying to mess it all up.

Sam also wishes for world peace and a hair product that actually works as advertised, so he's used to the impossibility of his hopes.

 

**1.**

Sam sometimes has trouble with the reality of what his life has become. It's a shock to go from saving the world through a noble self-sacrifice to attending grad school and refereeing his brother's petty relationship problems with a dude, who just happens to be the most powerful angel in heaven.

"Why are you asking me?" Sam stares in utter confusion at Dean and Castiel, who both look back with exasperation, as if he's the one who's acting strangely. "I don't have to sleep on it," he continues. "Dean, you do get how weird it is to have your brother decide what kind of bed you buy, don't you?"

Dean shakes his head. "Well, we can't agree on anything other than having you be the tiebreaker, so deal with it. C'mon, hard or soft?"

Sam can usually depend on Castiel to rise above these things, but he can see today is going to be different when he takes in the stubborn set of Cas's jaw. Dean's mulish expression is nothing new, at least. He tries to buy some time.

"Um, arguments for and against? Cas, you first," he says.

Castiel straightens up and gets that holy and pedantic look that usually means he's about to side _with_ Sam in an argument. Sam's a little worried about having it directed at him instead of Dean, even though he doesn't have a real stake in this particular issue.

"First of all," Castiel begins, "a firm mattress is the best possible support for the human spine - "

"Fuck that," Dean interrupts. "I've been sleeping on hard, nasty mattresses my whole life. If I'm gonna actually buy one, I want it to be so soft I have trouble getting out of it every morning."

Sam glares. "It's Cas's turn to talk, dipshit, don't make this harder than it has to be."

Castiel seems to have lost some of his fervor, but he keeps going. "Having a firm mattress will provide better leverage for at least five different sexual positions."

This makes Dean pause, a thoughtful look on his face, and Sam sighs. Why do they always bring it back to their sex life? He now knows more about gay sex than any straight guy he's ever met.

"And thirdly," Castiel says, like he’s quoting material from an informational pamphlet, "a soft mattress has a forty percent shorter lifespan than a firm one, according to many studies, making it an unwise investment."

"Anything else?" Sam asks Cas when it looks like he won't continue.

"Those are the main three reasons," Cas replies. "Dean can make his flimsy attempts at an argument now."

"I'm really going to regret teaching you passive aggression, aren't I?" mutters Dean.

Sam agrees wholeheartedly, but he turns to Dean and motions for him to make his case.

"I already said it," Dean shrugs. "If I'm selling out and becoming a domesticated person, I damn well better get the most comfortable bed I can out of it. I don't care what's best for my spine, I want to think I'm sleeping on a featherbed in heaven every night."

"Your continued disregard for your health is a – a – " Castiel practically sputters, which is rare enough for Sam to wish he had a tape recorder. "A travesty," Cas continues.

"And your _continued disregard_ for the fact that I'm a grown ass man is what?" Dean shoots back. "Attractive and reasonable?"

Sam wishes fervently that he had been an only child, and steps in between Dean and Cas, who are having an epic staring contest, minus the usual sexual tension and plus actual aggression.

"Look," Sam says, having a well-timed stroke of genius. "Why don't you just get one of those pillowtop things? It'll be firm so everyone's spine will be healthy, with a nice, soft layer on top, so Dean can sleep in luxury."

Dean looks like he's going to be ornery and dismiss the suggestion, but Castiel looks intrigued.

"The website said nothing about pillowtops," he says. "It sounds like a reasonable solution, but I reserve the right to change my mind after testing one."

Sam turns to Dean, hoping he'll take Castiel's willingness to compromise as a good thing and relent as well. Dean glares at Sam and Cas for a minute, then sighs and drops his folded arms down to his sides, relaxing.

"Fine," he says, "we'll go look at some and see if we can find one we like."

Sam feels overwhelming relief at this fairly quick resolution to a ridiculous argument (he's going to refer to this as the great mattress war of 2012, he decides, to piss Dean off). The relief turns suddenly into despair at Dean's next declaration.

"And Sam can come along to make sure we don't fight about it."

With that, Dean and Cas are back to normal and Sam tries to keep positive. At least they aren't making him choose their sheets, and he just earned enough "awesome brother" points that Dean won't be able to weasel his way out of going to that art gallery Sam's been meaning to check out.

 

**2.**

Sam thoroughly enjoys the PDA battle. It's never over, but sometimes there's a clear front-runner who claims a temporary victory. He likes it best when Cas is in the lead, because a frustrated and embarrassed Dean is Sam's favorite kind of brother, but seeing Castiel's "humanity is pissing me off" face is also pretty priceless.

It's the latter today when Dean drags Sam and Cas out to a local MMA fight. He loves to sit back and keep track of how easily he could beat the fighters, or how long they'd last in a fight against a werewolf or a wendigo. Sam has to admit that it's funny to watch, so he doesn't protest, and Cas just wants to be with Dean after having been away dealing with some sort of cupid problem for a few weeks.

But it's a room full of macho people bent on destruction and testosterone, which means Dean is doing his best to fit in. Sam suspects that even if Cas had a female vessel, Dean wouldn't be up for hand-holding in this particular venue. Castiel doesn't see things that way, clearly.

Dean shrugs Castiel's hand off his shoulder for the fifth time that night. "Hands off!" he barks, and Cas glares.

"This is ridiculous," Cas complains. "I could level this whole building in ten seconds, I don't understand why you're afraid to let anyone see me touch you."

"It's just – it's just not okay right now," Dean says helplessly. "I know you could beat up everyone here, but maybe I just want to have a nice night out without any homophobia or the need to have my boyfriend defend my non-existent honor, okay?" He looks over at a group of men sitting across the room, watching the fight. Sam follows his gaze and sees why Dean is being so difficult – the group doesn't look very friendly, and they're all fairly big guys.

"I haven't been able to touch you for almost a month," Castiel says.

"Whose fault is that?" Dean shoots back, and Sam winces. Now it's not just an argument about public displays of affection, it's also a fight about how often Cas has to go back to heaven.

Luckily, Castiel ignores Dean's words. "If you won't let me even touch your shoulder or hold your hand here, I am going to take you to a place where I can do much more than that."

Dean turns a little red, and Sam pointedly ignores the way his eyes light up.

"Can't wait til the fight's over?" Dean asks, kind of breathlessly. Cas glowers and Sam really doesn't want to know why that seems to make Dean even happier.

"You're lucky I haven't already started undressing you," Cas growls, and Dean's eyes get even wider.

"Uh, so, not to interrupt or anything," Sam says, out of self-defense, "but maybe you should go now? I'll drive the car home."

"Thank you, Sam," Cas says, eyes not leaving Dean's face. "We do have a few things to discuss in private." He hauls Dean up and starts for the door, pausing only to let Dean quickly toss the car keys to Sam.

Sam nods at Dean's grateful expression, which is soon gone, dragged away by Cas as he herds Dean from the room. Sam is just glad he didn't disappear in plain sight. One of the men Dean had been trying to avoid attracting any notice from earlier approaches Sam as he's settling back into his seat, determined to let Dean and Cas have enough time to work out their current spat. The guy is huge, as tall as Sam and probably twice as thick around the body and shoulders. Sam starts getting into the headspace for a fight, because if this dude starts in on the gay jokes, Sam is not holding back.

"Your friends didn't have to leave," the man says in a pleasant voice. Sam jerks in reaction to what he'd been expecting to hear, and then the actual words sink in.

"Uh, what?" he says.

"Your friends," the man repeats. "The guys who were together? The one looked like he was expecting a gay-bashing any minute, but we're not like that."

"Oh," Sam says, feeling ashamed that he'd pretty much assumed the same thing Dean had. "Well, thanks, I'll tell Dean later. They, uh, they had some stuff to work out, anyway, that didn't really have anything to do with you guys."

The man nods. "Yeah, I could see that." He sticks his hand out, and Sam takes it, still in a little shock. "Name's Lloyd," he says. "Seen you here a few times, and if you guys are gonna be regulars, I think it's time we got to know each other, since my brother owns this place."

"Sam," Sam replies faintly. "That's, uh, that's really nice of you."

"Don't want anyone thinking we're some kind of bigots here," Lloyd continues. "Andrew would never forgive us if his admirers stopped coming to his fights." He indicates a man standing to side of the ring, dressed for a fight and waiting his turn. "He says he gets more ass here than the gay bars."

Sam can't help it, he really can't. He lets a snort of laughter escape, and soon he's trying not to laugh so hard that he cries. Lloyd gives him a look, one that says he's not so sure of Sam's mental health, and Sam pulls it together.

"I'm sorry," he says, "it's just, my brother, Dean? The one who was so worried about getting hassled?"

Lloyd nods.

"Well, he's kind of anti-public displays of affection, and his boyfriend doesn't even notice when other people are even around usually, so Dean spends a lot of his time fending off hugs in front of people, and I think he's gonna be pissed that he doesn't have a good reason to avoid them here, once I tell him you guys are cool."

"He's your older brother, huh?" Lloyd asks, without making it much of a question. Sam nods. "I know that look, my brother always makes it just before he completely humiliates me in front of my wife."

Sam smiles and shrugs. Dean completely deserves it this time. "Well," he says, "I think I'd better get going. It was nice to meet you, Lloyd, I'm sure I'll see you around." Lloyd shakes his hand again in farewell, and Sam leaves, mentally preparing for the fun of swinging the PDA fight back into Castiel's favor.

All the joy the thought brings him disappears as soon as he opens the door of their apartment. Sam trips over Castiel's trench coat in the entryway, and then something he thinks are Dean's shoes in the hallway to the living room. When he looks up after nearly falling over, he sees Dean bent over the side of the couch – Sam's brain mercifully starts up a refrain of "la la la" that covers up any other audiovisual input he's getting, and he shuts his eyes tightly.

"The couch counts as a common possession, Dean," he yells wearily, because they've had this conversation a million times. He'd even made a few stops on his way home, not wanting to get back too early, and there was no good reason for Dean to have decided to desecrate the couch. _Again_.

"Shit," he hears Dean say (moan is more accurate, but Sam loves himself enough to never use that word in connection with Dean in the privacy of his own mind), and then he feels the slight displacement in the air that means Castiel has probably zapped himself and Dean into Dean's room. Sam opens one eye cautiously, and when he doesn't see anyone, starts down the hall to the bedrooms, carefully avoiding the couch with its rumpled cushions and mysterious wet spot.

He toys with the idea of banging on the door and making Dean apologize, and then telling him that all his paranoia had been for nothing, but ends up just going to his own room. Happy as he is that Cas and Dean have made up, he doesn't want another eyeful of anyone's naked body.

Besides, he's earned _so_ many "awesome brother" points tonight, and he really should think about how to cash them in.

 

**3.**

The first time Castiel chooses Sam's favorite vegetarian restaurant instead of his usual (a pizzeria with Dean's favorite type of crust) when it's his turn to pick Friday night dinner, Sam assumes it's part of some power struggle he wants nothing to do with, and ignores it. The next time he's slightly suspicious. The third time is when Dean catches on, and when Cas admits his ultimate goal, Sam tries to make himself as unobtrusive as possible in order to watch the fireworks.

"What." Dean says flatly. His hand, which had been resting lightly on the booth behind Castiel's shoulders, drops to his lap and he turns to face Cas with a closed-off expression that means nothing good is about to happen.

"Your diet is extremely unhealthy," Cas says again, sounding like he doesn't understand why Dean's upset. They all know he does, though. The clueless angel act is pretty much all _act_ these days. "I can't just keep cleaning out your arteries every time you're about to have a heart attack."

"You cleaned out my arteries?" Dean's voice is low and angry. "So free will only matters when you're not the one in charge, is that it?"

Castiel shifts and fixes his steady gaze on Dean. "I only step in when you refuse to take care of yourself. I know you can, but you so often _won't_."

"It's still my decision!" Dean snaps. "I've been around a while, I can make my own choices!"

"So you'd choose to have me watch you suffer, and let me do nothing to help you?" Castiel asks.

Dean stays quiet and Sam starts to feel uncomfortably voyeuristic.

"Uh, guys?" he says. They ignore him.

"I want you to live as long as you can," Cas murmurs, hand sliding over Dean's shoulder and pressing gently. "I want this life with you as long as I can have it."

Dean ducks his head and his face turns pink. "You can't say shit like that," he protests. "Not in front of Sam."

Sam agrees, and he's about to get up and offer to leave when Cas reaches out and touches Dean's forehead. Just before they disappear, Sam hears Cas say that they'll be at home. Sam decides to stay out late, because he's an awesome brother, and by the time he gets back, the patch of space underneath Dean's bedroom door is dark and he can't hear anything except the tick of the kitchen clock.

The next morning, when Sam stumbles out of his room intent on following the smell of pancakes to its source, Dean is sitting at the kitchen table watching Castiel magic up breakfast. They've clearly kissed and made up, and Dean smiles when he sees Sam.

"Hey, sleeping ugly," he says.

Sam tries to make a dignified retort, but only manages to say "coffee?" in a plaintive tone as he collapses in the chair opposite Dean. Castiel soon joins them, and Dean doesn't protest the extra-large helping of fruit on his plate.

Later, when his brain is working again, Sam will tease Dean about make-up sex with his over-protective angel boyfriend and Dean will call him a princess and Cas will watch them both with amusement and then suggest Dean's favorite burgers for lunch.

Right now, though, Sam is just thankful that he escaped this fight without seeing any naked bodies.

 

**1.**

When Castiel shows up with a latte (extra hot with peppermint) while Sam is studying for a final, Sam is confused, but pleased. When Dean offers to let Sam take the Impala to this bookstore across town that he's been meaning to go to forever, he's surprised, but he doesn't say no. He is _definitely_ happy about the fact that he hasn't walked in on any naked shenanigans in shared spaces lately. But some things are just too strange to let go.

"Okay," Sam finally says one morning, as Castiel provides another perfect latte and Dean serves a healthy breakfast. "Seriously, what the hell is going on? Do I need to call Bobby? Have you been replaced by Stepford aliens?"

"A guy can't even make breakfast for his own brother without accusations?" Dean asks, faking a wounded expression. Castiel looks over Sam's shoulder instead of directly at him, avoiding the need to answer.

"Come on," Sam scoffs at them both. "I'm not stupid. I'm grateful for the recent lack of embarrassing situations where I see way, _way_ more of both of you than I ever wanted, but I am not stupid."

Dean twitches and sighs, hands moving restlessly on the surface of the table. "Yeah, about that," he starts to say.

"We are sorry for the frequency with which you seem to be traumatized by our relationship," Cas says smoothly, cutting Dean off with a hand on his shoulder. "We are thankful for all the ways in which you help us out."

Sam wonders how hard Castiel had to argue to get Dean to agree to this, and doesn't say anything for a minute or two. Then Dean and Cas exchange one of those looks that Sam calls their "old married couple" routine (and to be honest, it kinda creeps him out sometimes). Dean breaks the connection and sighs again, rolling his eyes at Cas.

"Thank you, Sam," Dean turns to tell Sam, with the sharp bite of sarcasm. "I'm so glad you get along with my boyfriend."

"You're welcome," Sam says, because sarcasm or not, Dean clearly means it. Sam gets up and gives Dean a squeeze around the shoulders and nods at Castiel.

"Are we done with the goddamn hugging?" Dean grumbles into his coffee. Castiel tries to hide his smile, but doesn't quite succeed, and Dean kicks him in the shins. "Some boyfriend you are, laughing at my pain."

"I will make it worth your while, Dean," Cas says, tugging Dean up from the table, and just like that, Sam is back in the real world, where he knows enough about Dean and Castiel's relationship to be their therapist.

Sam hides a smile of his own as he leans against the counter and sips his (still perfectly hot) latte while watching Dean and Cas grope each other on their way out of the kitchen. It was nice while it lasted.

(This doesn't mean Sam won't tease Dean about the whole thing mercilessly later on. He's not _actually_ a saint.)


End file.
